


The House Always Wins

by DixieDale



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Stalag 13 - A visiting officer takes a good look around and decides he likes what he sees - an out of the way place, a captive (literally) audience and cast of players.  All in all, it's an ideal setup to recreate a game he'd enjoyed so much in North Africa, one he called The Pit of Choice.  A game in which the House always wins.





	The House Always Wins

Colonel Breudicg was an odd addition to their multiple chess games with the Kommandant, the Gestapo, General Burkhaulter, various Travelers, London HQ and various others. Frankly, none in Barracks 2 were any too happy to have ANY additions, thinking they already had more than enough on their combined plate as it was. Still, there he was, pulling in the gates, sitting back like a royal prince. First his staff car, then that smallish truck pulling a large van.

London had heard rumors, certainly, though just that, nothing concrete. The mysterious man in London who sometimes had more than desirable control over their actions thumbed through a few of those scraps of information now while waiting for the connection to be established with Papa Bear. He doubted Hogan would be thrilled about any of this; oh, he was effective enough, most of the time, but difficult, him AND his men. Reminded him more than a little of some of the Special Forces, Special Ops teams he had to work with on occasion. He read those last three once more, then sighed. {"Really not a lot to go on, but they'll just have to make do."}

"Here, Goldilocks. Read him these and let him know what we require. No, I don't imagine he'll be all that happy; why should he be the exception?"

**  
"He travels with that van, always. It supposedly contains his most prized collection, though no one knows whether that is art, or jewels, or something else. It is a matter of great mystery." 

"You notice it does not have a driver, but hooks to the truck in front of it. Rumor says that once there WERE drivers, but that too many died of unknown causes, so they switched to towing it around." 

"There are whispers that it contains a collection of horror, a collection that will chill any man's blood to the point of death! That is what I have heard!"  
**

 

Hogan now listened to those sparse reports, heard their instructions and looked again at the transmitter wondering if that was all some new code he was supposed to understand.

"Goldilocks, repeat. We are supposed to WHAT?"

"The orders state, Papa Bear, that you are to determine what Breudicg HAS in that van. Only once you know what is there can you, well, WE, decide what action is to be taken."

"So first we get inside, or at least get reliable information. Then we relay it to you and you {"sit around and discuss it with a dozen other old ladies busy doing their knitting and finally come to a conclusion!"} will let us know whether we're to steal it, destroy it, or whatever? Is that correct, Goldilocks??"

Hogan was looking more than a little annoyed with Goldilocks, and rightfully so, his men all thought.

Newkirk whispered to Carter and LeBeau, "so we creep up, take a good gander, trying not to get our 'eads shot off in the doing, get the news off to London, wait while they spin on their thumbs awhile, meanwhile keeping that bloody van 'ere til they make up their bloody minds!!! Then we get to carry out w'atever mad scheme they come up with. Lovely, simply lovely!"

Papa Bear gave them a warning look. Oh, he agreed, wholeheartedly, but that transmitter could go from barely workable to overly sensitive in a flash; no sense letting Goldilocks know (at least for now) how stupidly dangerous that whole scenario sounded to the men expected to carry it out.

"Alright, so we give it a try. What do you have on this Colonel Breudicg?"

"Not a great deal, I'm afraid," Goldilocks started. It was probably good they were in separate locations; that synchronized eyeroll wouldn't have done the crew any good. 

"Studied at both the University of Wurzburg and the University of Berlin. Specialized in botany and zoology. Traveled extensively before the war, seemed to have a special interest in New Zealand, Australia, Tasmania, several of the more obscure islands in that local."

Kinch murmured, "well, at least it's not chemical warfare," having had his fill of that from the previous mission, while Carter perked up and started to look even more interested. Yeah, chemicals were his thing, but not the weaponizing of them. But zoology?

Well, zoology meant animals, and Carter had never met the animal he didn't respect, and most usually like. Just ask the guys; they were always having to discourage him from bringing home strays - dogs, cats, bats, ducks, snakes, rabbits, badgers - you name it, if he found it, he wanted to bring it home. Felix the mouse was the only one the guys had accepted with some equinamity long-term, though Hassenpfeffer the rabbit did stay for awhile until he got sad and lonely and Andrew let him loose in the forest to find a friend.

"Don't think of it as losing a little friend, Andrew; think of it as a proud papa sending 'im off to start a lovely little family of 'is own," Newkirk had consoled the young Sergeant, hoping like hell none of the other guys saw or heard them, Newkirk's arm around Andrew's shoulder, giving him that little pep talk. {"Ruin me reputation in a flash, that would! Bleedin 'earts and flowers!"} 

Still, he couldn't bring himself to suggesting Hassenpfeffer serve his original intended purpose by becoming a nice meal prepared by LeBeau, or by admitting the rabbit stood a better chance of being eaten by a wild animal or one of the camp dogs than finding true love amongst the forest leaves. Andrew was hurting enough and didn't need him adding to it. 

Newkirk maintained his self-respect and dignity (such as he had) by steadfastly believing no one else saw the softer side Carter seemed to bring out in him. Actually, Kinch and LeBeau just rolled their eyes and laughed to themselves when a day or two of Newkirk grumping and slamming around about something inconsequential followed a time of Andrew being down, then magically perking up again after an intercession by the Englishman. They knew Newkirk had once again caught himself doing something contrary to the way he saw himself, being someone other than the hardened street tough he prided himself on being, and was just trying to rebuild his image, at least to himself. No, they had no idea how Andrew had managed to break through Newkirk's ironclad shield, but somehow he had, and there it was. Luckily Hogan still seemed to be pretty oblivious, which was probably good for a whole bunch of reasons. 

Once the call ended, Andrew let out all the excitement he'd forced himself to keep inside. "Wow, you know, there's lots of real interesting animals and plants and stuff in Australia and those other places. Boy, I've seen pictures and you wouldn't believe . . . "

"Carter, that's enough. Let's get down to business," Hogan interrupted. It wasn't that Carter couldn't be interesting himself at times; he did seem to be a wealth of knowledge on some pretty remarkable things, but he also could go on and on (and on and on) once he got wound up, and he was exhibiting all the signs now - the overly bright eyes, the slightly open lips (when they weren't moving rapidly as he chattered), the slightly forward hunch to his shoulders.

"Colonel's right, Andrew. You can tell us all about all that some other time, ei? Right now, Colonel, 'ow about Carter and me, we take a little stroll around the compound? See w'at we can see, w'at we can 'ear?"

"Yeah, but don't get caught, guys. I'm going to go see if Klink knows anything," Hogan replied, straightening his collar, smoothing down his hair, picking up his jacket and cap and heading out the door.

Newkirk slapped Andrew on the shoulder, "off we go, then. And you 'eard the Colonel, don't go doing anything stupid and getting yourself caught, alright?"

"Me?" Carter squealed in protest. "Hey, it wasn't ME who let Gruber catch him listening in at the guards barracks!"

"Yeah, well, it WAS you w'at stumbled over 'is own feet and made so much noise it got Belker's attention and made 'im and Gruber look up in time to spot me, now wasn't it?"

They were still arguing as they drifted out of sight. Kinch shook his head with a laugh, "they sound like a pair of kids, you know?" 

LeBeau snorted, "those two? More like an old married couple, to my mind! Who forgot to pick up the bread, who left the milk on the counter, who forgot the priest was coming to dinner and showed up with beer on his breath, who, who, who! Then they settle down to a game of cards, a quiet night, and if you ask why they were quarreling, they look at you like you are the one who is mad!! Quarreling? What quarreling??" LeBeau rolled his eyes in amusement, while Kinch just looked at him and shook his head at that explanation.

The arguing stopped as they reached the corner of the motor pool and separated. Andrew was going to try to get a look inside, because if there were animals inside, he'd have a better chance of identifying what kinds.

"You be careful, Andrew, you bloody well 'ear me??!" was intended to be casual, but wasn't, somehow; and somehow the breezy reply, "no problem, Peter. Piece of pie" didn't seem to reassure the Englishman, not from the dubious expression on his face. He figured he'd snoop around, but stay within sight of that van, just in case. Andrew could get in more trouble than anyone he'd ever met, even more than he himself could, and that was saying a lot!

They were out of luck, though, as before they could get close, the guards had been summoned by a nervous Sergeant Schultz and put to walking a continual circle around the van.

"And there are to be three of you at all times, always walking. And, no, I do not know why, or what is inside. I know only that the Colonel has discussed this with the Kommandant and these are the Kommandant's orders. No one is to approach, none other than the Colonel himself and his men, unless the Colonel says so. I will personally bring those who will relieve you." 

Schultz gave the van a highly-uncomfortable look, and the men made sure to listen when their Sergeant added in a lower voice one added caution. 

"Do not touch the van, boys, do not get your hands anywhere near it or those grills on the side. I do not think it would be healthy. No, I know nothing, nothing! Just . . . Do not, yah, boys??"

And it was Schultz who ever so casually made his way around the camp, eventually ending up in Barracks 2, where a disgruntled Newkirk and Carter were sitting, having reported the current state of affairs and their failure to get any information about that mysterious van.

"Colonel Hogan has not yet returned?"

"Naw, Schultzie, 'e's still with the Kommandant and 'is visitor."

Schultz sat his rifle down in the corner and took off his helmet, accepted a cup of not-quite-coffee from LeBeau. 

"Boys, you must be good boys, do you hear me? Do NOT try any of your monkey business. Leave the Colonel alone, leave his men alone, and please, PLEASE!, leave that verdammt! van alone! It has, I think, very not-nice things inside!"

The men gathered round, teasing him on, trying for more information. "I know nothing, I swear!" he protested, but gradually they pulled out what little he did know, which really wasn't all that much. 

After he left, they sat down and tried to put all the pieces together. Carter had made a quick visit to Karl Langenscheidt to see what he could pick up there and came back with just one or two extra pieces to the puzzle.

"So, it is a large van, so it could hold most anything." Well, they could all see that.

"So, it's bigger than a bread box, but that don't tell us much," Newkirk grumbled.

"Well, there's some kind of heater built around the bottom, maybe propane fueled, though I couldn't get close enough to be sure. But I could see the shimmers in the air around the base."

Kinch took another look at the van, sitting in the middle of the compound. "Grills, maybe air vents, which may or may not mean anything, except for Schultz thinking it necessary to warn the men not to get their hands near those vents. Wonder why? Can't imagine anything getting through except maybe gas. Langenscheidt says it's like fine mesh, but looks like it's pretty strong, not just screen wire. And they cover a fair amount of space, maybe a foot by two feet, looks like from here, and there's several of them."

Hogan hadn't had much luck with the Kommandant, and it hadn't helped with the Colonel sitting there the whole time, that slyly superior look on his face. 

"Why so curious, Colonel Hogan? My van is of no concern to you or your men."

"With all due respect, Colonel, The Geneva Convention prohibits storing anything hazardous in a prisoner of war camp."

"Oh, come now, Colonel. Under the right circumstances, even the most innocuous of . . . things . . . can be hazardous, you must realize that. Even water, even air. The Geneva Convention cannot cover them all, you know." Yes, that sly look had just turned into a very knowing, very malicious smirk.

Twenty minutes later, still no closer to any viable information than before, Hogan left, hoping his men had been more successful. Unfortunately, they hadn't been, and the plan moved to LeBeau trying to get more information out of Schultz.

Now a frustrated LeBeau reported back.

"According to Schultz, Private Lumeir said he heard growls and hissing from inside, like from animals. And Private Deedman said there was a rank smell coming from one of the vents. Corporal Langenscheidt has come up with at least three theories, all of which will be turned into very scary stories, I assume. Everything from a canister of poison gas that has a faulty valve, which would account for the sounds and smells, to a captive madman surrounded by the rotting corpses of his victims, to a dangerous wild creature destined for Hitler's secret menagerie. You know Langenscheidt!"

"Yeah, well, the problem is, for all we know, any of those could be right, or a dozen we haven't thought of! We've got to get another look."

"Mon Colonel, another thought. The small truck that pulls it along; perhaps it holds a hint? Perhaps it will not be so closely guarded."

LeBeau and Olsen snuck out through the dog kennels, keeping to the shadows. LeBeau was able to clamber up into the rear of the tarped truck, spent some time with a pencil light, then rejoined Olsen. Together they made their way back to the waiting team in the barracks.

"Dried meat of some kind, dried insects too. Some grain, though not much. Some dried green stuff, I could not tell what. I don't know that it tells us much," LeBeau admitted. "Oh, and small propane tanks, so Carter's guess on the heating makes sense."

Carter had a thoughtful frown on his face, "I'd say that means there's animals in there, of some kind. Not all the same kinds, of course, but meat, insects, grain, and the rest, that sounds like what you might keep on hand if you were keeping some different kinds of pets. And as cold as it is, a lot of animals just couldn't stand that, so that's what the heater's for."

"Yeah, I'd say Colonel Breudicg looks like someone who'd keep a pet or two around, Andrew," Newkirk snarked. "Just the warm, cuddly type to do just that."

"He may have a point, Newkirk. In fact, it sounds likely," Kinch said. "I had an uncle, worked at a zoo back in the States. Told me once they kept all kinds of special food for all the different kinds. Said it was kinda interesting and kinda scary, all at the same time."

 

Hogan's protests had come to nothing, other than to give Kommandant Klink a raging headache, and seemed to only amuse the visiting Colonel. Once Hogan had left, Breudicg settled back to contemplate his next move.

"Hogan, an interesting man, but not precisely what I am looking for. But still, his reaction would be most interesting. Tell me, Klink, which men are closest to him? The ones in his barracks?" Getting a wary nod, he continued. "And of those, which ones are closest to each other? I think we will satisfy Colonel Hogan's curiosity, at least a tiny bit. Oh, not entirely, that would spoil things for other potential players of the game, but just a bit, yes?"

Klink hemmed and hawed, til finally the Colonel lost his patience and yelled out into the anteroom. "You, pretty blonde girl, bring me the records from who has spent time in the cooler over the past year. What do you think, Klink, perhaps we will find a pattern, perhaps two men who seem to share an affinity for trouble, for discord? Yes, perhaps we shall."

The guys on the other end of the coffee pot shared that little conversation with Hogan when he returned, and frankly, none of them were overly happy about whatever Breudicg might have in mind.

They weren't any happier when Newkirk and Carter were ordered to the Kommandant's office, especially when Hogan was forced to remain behind and the barracks door latched tightly. The coffee pot went into immediate action, and the team listened, grimfaced. Getting out, interferring could, no, probably would blow their entire operation. So they were left with a choice, a choice that was really no choice. It was ironic that at that moment, they heard Breundicg clarify the situation, also mentioning a choice.

"You DO have a choice, you see, gentlemen. One of you will be the watcher, one of you will play the game. You will have a little time to look over your choices; there are eight enclosures inside the van. One of you will remain on one side of the barrier, watching; the other will, within ten minutes, select one enclosure, unlatch the door, and take out the creature that lives within; you will hold it for a minimum of two minutes, then return it to its enclosure and engage the latch. Some are relatively harmless creatures, others, well, perhaps less so. One will watch, one will take action. There is a small voice panel, so the watcher can give advice, perhaps hear any last words if that advice was misinformed, eh?"

Peter and Andrew looked at each, thinking rapidly, weighing their options. 

"Ah, yes, you are wondering what happens if you take NO action. Well, since you are being timed, and since each latch has a signal that will tell me when it is opened and closed, and then the action repeated, at the end of the prescribed time, my man Kolo here will enter and kill you both, starting with the one doing the watching. That way the one who refused to take action can have his turn at the joy of watching, watching his friend die most unpleasantly, knowing what awaits him. Kolo is an expert with a knife and takes considerable joy in his work. It is really hard to find such dedicated men these days, you know. I am most lucky to have found Kolo; the game simply would not be the same without him."

Peter thought about asking what would happen to the watcher if the 'doer' did what he was told, surviving or not. Somehow he didn't think the Colonel intended to have anyone leaving that van alive to tell about his little game. Still, he might as well go along for the ride, and so he asked. The totally insincere smile told him he'd been right, no matter the words that accompanied it.

"But my dear fellow, of course, once the game is played, if it is played according to the rules, the one who watches will be released, unharmed. The other? Well, that depends on how successful or unsuccesful he was in playing the game, either to a win or to a draw, doesn't it?"

"Guess we'll just trust to our luck then, let the White Rabbit lead the way," Newkirk drawled, setting his jaw in a stubborn line. {"At least, we can play the game, stall and 'ope Colonel 'ogan can pull a rabbit outta thin air. If not . . ."}. Andrew was thinking more on the line of {"stop getting smartass with him, Peter, or he'll just shoot you right now!"}

While that made no sense to the Colonel, the words or the attitude from the Englishman, he just shrugged at the bravado thus being expressed. {"We will see just how confident, how brave he feels when he gets a good look inside the van!"}

They were taken to the rear of the van, the door opened, and the two of them pushed inside, the barrier raised then lowered again. Newkirk had pushed a little ahead himself, resulting in him being the one inside that divider, Andrew protesting all the while.

"Leave it, Andrew. I need you right w'ere you are. I'll read any names from those little tags, see if that tells us anything, let you know w'at the bloody beasts look like. You know more about such than I do."

Andrew was still fuming, "yeah, boy, well that was why it shoulda been me inside there, Peter, doggone it!"

"Enough, Andrew, it's done. Now, this 'ere one says . . ." 

 

The light was just enough that they could see into each enclosure, Peter much better than Andrew, of course. In some they could see a creature, in some they couldn't, but that didn't mean nothing was there. Each enclosure had been fashioned into a replica of a landscape, and it was quite possible there was something just not visible until it moved into the open.

So far together they had ruled out the tiger snakes. Well, Newkirk would have ruled those out anyway, seeing how he felt about snakes in general. The spiders had been given a pass as well. Andrew had firmly ordered Peter to keep his hands OUT of the two tanks of water. "That area has a whole bunch of dangerous fish and other stuff that live in the water. He won't be expecting anyone to know that, though."

The rest of the animals were all bigger, ranging from the size of a small dog upwards. Newkirk thought both the wombats and the Tazmanian devils looked a little like dog sized bears. "Though that last stinks enough to give you boils inside yer lungs!"

"I don't remember them being poisonous, but I think they bite really, really hard."

"Well, w'at about those birds? Don't look big enough to bite very 'ard. Course, I get one out and it gets loose, could be the devil getting me 'ands on it again. The Colonel probably would strike off points for that."

"What does it say on the cage?" 

"Pitohui/ifrita."

The answer got a quick, "ah, no, Peter. Those are poisonous, though I don't know how much. Not their bite, just their touch! It's from the poisonous insects they eat. I think they're from New Guinea. No, better leave those alone!"

Newkirk muttered a few choice comments about "bloody birds being poisonous to the touch! Don't know w'at the world is coming to!!"

"Well, at least this one don't seem so bad. Odd looking thing, though; aint never seen anything quite like it. Label's gone. Big flat tail, mouth like a duck, webbed feet but all furry. Last cage, don't 'ave much choice; it's gotta be this one most likely. W'atta ya think it is, Andrew?" Newkirk asked as he reached for the latch, trying to ignore the film of sweat on his forehead.

"It's a platypus, Peter, and yeah, it's kinda funny looking, but that doesn't mean it's not . . . Oh, watch out for the spurs! Peter, watch out!!" 

"Oh, Bloody 'ELL!!!" was Newkirk's last thought before the intense pain hit. 

Somehow he held onto the creature til he counted off two minutes, then another minute just to be safe, and carefully returned the bloody beast to its cage and tripped the latch. Stumbling back to the divider, he leaned on it and tried to keep from passing out, clutching his bleeding wounds as best he could. His arms and hands were already swelling and he was getting sick to his stomach. He heard Andrew yelling and pounding on the door, but Peter had already collapsed to the floor before Breudicg's men opened the rear door. 

An incredulous Kommandant Klink, followed by Colonel Hogan who'd sneaked over to apply some heavy pressure just as soon as Breudicg had been otherwise occupied, had come bustling out into the compound and had been an observer to Breudicg's laugh and dismissive gesture at Carter's shouts for help. Klink for once had stood his ground with his emphatic, "get them out of there!!!" and the camp guards, led by Schultz and Langenscheidt had their guns poised in a way as to make sure the visitor understood they were serious.

Of the prisoners, only Andrew and Hogan were there to see the disappointment and annoyance on Breudicg's face.

"Oh, well, I suppose the House must lose sometime. Very well, take them away to wherever they belong. Kolo, make sure all the cages are secured and the creatures fed. We'll be on our way in the morning. Perhaps the next playing of the Game will be more entertaining."

There was a bit of confusion and noise in the wee hours, but nothing overly dramatic; Sergeant Schultz had assured the Kommandant it had only been some of the dogs overly excited by perhaps a rabbit venturing too close.

The small caravan went on its way. Somehow, during a stopover on the far side of Dusseldorf, the van with the Colonel's most prized collection went missing, and although the Colonel screamed and shouted and bullied his way around, there appeared to be no trace of it or its occupants. 

The Colonel and his men continued on their way on toward Berlin, where the Colonel intended to call in a few favors and have some, well, a great many heads roll in retaliation for his loss. Heads in Dusseldorf, many, many heads at Stalag 13. They never made it.

The investigation of the car crash turned up some puzzling evidence, one Hogan related to his men.

"According to the report, the men in the following truck died of injuries incurred in the crash. The driver of Breudicg's car probably would have but he drowned first when the car went over the side of the bridge. But Breudicg and his man Kolo were riding in the rear of the car, and the report says they appear to have died of some toxin, probably from a venomous snake, perhaps a spider. There were multiple bites of various kinds. Nothing was found in the car, but the creatures responsible could have been swept away in the river. It being well below freezing out there, no one was going to go looking too far. And as for the van? No one seems to have a clue."

Later, after LeBeau and Andrew once again cleaned the gashes, applied the poltices to Newkirk's arms and hands to hopefully clear up the damage and resulting infection, LeBeau murmurred, "that special project you were working on, Andre. The boxes with the special timing mechanisms that would cause them to open at some later time. Are they still here that I might take a look at them, for future reference, you see?"

"Uh, well, no. I got rid of them, Louie. I could build you a new one if you like," Carter offered with a bright look and an innocent smile.

LeBeau shuddered, "no, mon ami, that will not be necessary. I can picture it in my head quite clearly." And he could, and that picture would cause him some uneasy dreams. He was just glad Carter was on THEIR side! He looked again at Carter, so carefully watching Newkirk's face for some sign of response.

And that look on that slightly narrow face changed just a little, though perhaps it was the shadows that caused that bright innocence to shift to something more like an avenging angel, or at least an avenging something. 

Then it turned back into the Andrew Carter he knew, smiling that sweet earnest smile, reassuring a now more alert Peter Newkirk with a gentle pat to his arm, "all done, Peter. That'll have you right in no time at all. Why, I remember the time my uncle Storms A Lot got bit by that Gila monster, that's a poisonous lizard, you know; well, it really looked awful, but it all healed up just fine. He was able to walk around just like before, though that still wasn't too good since he'd already lost part of his toes to that snapping turtle, and that bobcat hadn't done him all that much good either, so . . . "

"Andrew! Just shut up and get in your bunk!" came a weak voice from Carter's bunk, the first clear words they'd had from Newkirk since the poison first took hold. The men shared a relieved grin at that tiny return to normality.

"Well, I can't, Peter, cause you're in it. How about I just use yours till you can get back up there? But it's kinda lonesome up there, so I think I'll stay here for awhile, just til we both get sleepy. Besides, it'll be warmer sharing. Move over just a little. There, that's good. Say, did I ever tell you about the time . . . ". Carter's voice was getting lower and lower and lower, til it was hardly more than a whisper, more in a sing-song rhythm than before, something haunting and yet soothing. That voice ceased only when they heard that little snuffling snore of Newkirk's, though Carter didn't make any move to move to the top bunk.

LeBeau shook his head and laughed to himself, draping the blanket from the upper bunk across the two, exchanging amused looks with Kinch and Olsen as they all settled down for the night. He really hoped the others wouldn't ask about those boxes; it was bad enough for him to be having bad dreams - no need for the others to as well. Of course, Peter and Andre would most likely be having their own bad dreams, but at least they wouldn't involve boxes slid under a seat, all just waiting for the moment when that mechanism would engage and the fronts to drop open and . . .

Oh, that van? Well, a small zoo just over the Swiss border found it outside their gates one morning, heater chugging away nicely, and while cautious, were soon delighted at the exotic inhabitants presented by, as the note on the entry door proclaimed, "a gift from Rascal, with complements."

The zoo master expounded to his board of directors, "truly a remarkable collection! I wonder what was in those two empty enclosures, though?"

Oh, and Goldilocks and the man of mystery, the string-puller? "Well, Goldilocks, I don't know what else you want me to say. The van had a collection of exotic animals. He took it and left. No, we couldn't delay him. Yes, it appears there was an accident. Yes, his death was confirmed. No, I don't know what happened to the animals! You know, Goldilocks, I really don't know what else you want; it's finished."

Hogan stared at the transmitter after Kinch had disconnected. There was a lot he didn't understand, himself, but he wasn't about to share that with London. Yes, it would be interesting to know just what HAD happened, where that van with its deadly cargo had ended up, but he didn't. As long as Carter hadn't smuggled them into the tunnels, he was satisfied just knowing they were gone. Well, he was sure . . . . On the other hand, no harm in checking one last time.

"Carter, are you sure . . .?"

"ME?" Carter squeeked. "Heck, no, Colonel! I mean, I like animals, sure, but those weren't anything to mess around with! No, boy, I mean Colonel, sir! I would never . . ." {"Of course, that doesn't mean I didn't get Rene to take them someplace safe, but that's not really anyone's business."}


End file.
